


Werepha

by ClockworkSpades



Series: Werepha [1]
Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: A Lot of aus apparently, Alpha America (Hetalia), Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alpha/Omega, Alternate Universe - Werewolf, Doctor/Patient, M/M, Omega England (Hetalia), Omega Verse, Omegaverse, Thanks, Werewolf America, aka supernatural creatures are a normal everyday thing woo, general supernatural creatures thing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-30
Updated: 2018-03-30
Packaged: 2019-04-15 02:43:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,930
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14150196
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ClockworkSpades/pseuds/ClockworkSpades
Summary: Arthur knew how to deal with just about every situation modern medicine was equipped to handle, neither the scariest of supernaturals nor the oddest of minor injuries could phase him. But a concussed werewolf alpha? That was something else altogether.





	Werepha

**Author's Note:**

> I actually wrote this a few months ago for a friend (I'd @ her AO3 but idk how) and I never intended to publish it, but I have a couple of other fic ideas in mind that match up perfectly with this au so. Anticipate a couple more installments. The title, also, is 100% her fault.

In all of his time as a doctor, Arthur had witnessed many things.

Of course that was the path of all medical professionals; but Arthur had chosen halfway through his studies to focus on the biology and care of the supernatural members of their society. Naturally, that subset of the medical profession had him see everything from a vampire suffering blood withdrawals to a simple matter of fixing a selkie’s broken bones. What he hadn’t dealt with, however, was a concussed werewolf.

Injured werewolves were not an uncommon sight in hospitals; of all supernatural creatures they had the most tendency to find themselves roughed up. Though they healed much faster and much better, some broken bones were a little too hard to fix themselves. But the matter of a concussion was far more rare from the thick-skulled lycanthropic population.

And Arthur had the great pleasure that evening of dealing with one of those rare cases.

“Mr Jones? I’m Doctor Kirkland, I’ll be seeing to you.”

Arthur gave his usual polite smile as he wandered over to Mr Jones’ bed. He was sat up, shirtless from the nurses seeing to his more minor cuts and bruises from whatever fight he’d been in. He did a double take as he glanced up, looking at Arthur as if he’d never seen a human omega before.

“…Hot.”

Arthur blinked at him.

“You have a fever?” He picked up a thermometer from the side, carefully putting a new cover on the earpiece as he stepped closer. “Just give me a moment to-”

“No.” Mr Jones interrupted, leaning back and out of Arthur’s reach and losing his balance in the process so that he very nearly fell backwards. “You. Hot, omega you.” He grinned, and Arthur was sure what followed was an attempt at winking, though it looked more like a confused blink.

Confusion was a symptom of concussions.

“Right…Thank you Mr Jones. Would you just allow me to go through a few procedures to make sure there’s nothing else wrong with you?”

“Hey nothing’s wrong with me I’m, I’m in great condition.” Again the grin persisted, and Arthur wondered if in any other situation he might’ve found the alpha’s leaning forward towards him at all attractive. As it was, they were in a hospital, and nothing about the alpha’s actions were any more attractive than they were irritatingly distracting.

“I’m sure you are Mr Jones-”

“Alfred.”

“-Alfred. But we just need to check. Can you follow my finger please?”

Alfred stared at him. For a moment Arthur wondered if he’d zoned out, or was perhaps about to faint, but he jolted suddenly and blurted his reply quickly.

“Yeah, sure.”

“Thank you.”

Arthur lifted his hand, taking a torch from his pocket to check Alfred’s eyes as the alpha obediently followed the movements of his finger. It occurred to him that he may have been a little too close for it, but not before Alfred could lean forward into his personal space.

“Mr Jones-!”

“Smell good.” Alfred mumbled, pressing his face suddenly into Arthur’s neck and for all the life of him  _nuzzling_.

Arthur felt his body heat up in embarrassment. Werewolves were known for their sense of smell, not to mention their instinctual habits; he’d been warned at school to be careful when it came to the hormones of werewolves, especially with alphas. But he hadn’t expected that to mean he’d be  _nuzzled_ by one on the job.

Arthur pushed himself back quickly, face red and heart hammering in his chest as he put space between himself and the alpha. Alfred whined at him, though luckily he made no attempt to follow. Alphas had tried many things in Arthur’s time, inappropriate comments had been made both about his status as an omega doctor and a human in a field dominated by supernaturals, but never had he been nuzzled whilst trying to check for brain damage.

“ _Mr Jones_.” Arthur hissed, clearing his throat to calm the strained tone of his voice.

Alfred grinned at him again, and Arthur was ashamed to feel his body heat at the attention. But not nearly enough to outweigh his irritation and offence at the alpha’s presumptuous action, regardless of his inebriated state of mind.

“Mr Jones I am your doctor and I cannot have you-  _doing that_ or anything else whilst I am trying to treat you.”

“But you smell good.” Alfred repeated, grin fading into a frown, as if thinking Arthur somehow didn’t understand him.

“Yes I, I appreciate that, but that still doesn’t make it appropriate and I will find you another doctor if you won’t restrain yourself.”

Alfred’s frown turned almost guilty, his scent which had previously been a muddle of both lingering aggression from whatever fight he’d been in and dazed confusion sinking into something heavy and sad. “Oh, I…sorry. You just-”

“Smell good, yes, I get it.”

Arthur cleared his throat, forgetting to mask his irritation. Yet the frown upon his face seemed not to deter Alfred, not that he was paying the alpha much mind as he picked up a chart to scribble down a few notes.

“You at least appear not to have any nerve or brain damage, the nurses already took down the matter of your concussion and injuries. I see your wrist is fractured, but that should repair itself in a few hours if you keep it in the brace. We’ll want to keep you overnight to see how your concussion plays out and to recheck your wrist.” He shut the chart, putting his pen away to turn his attention to the alpha who, once again, was staring at him intently. Arthur cleared his throat. “That should be all. I’ll see you again in the morning, the nurses will be around if you need anything else. Goodnight Mr Jones.”

He turned to leave, admittedly quite glad to be able to disentangle himself from this interaction with Alfred, though found himself having to stop and turn back when the alpha called out.

“Can you do anything about my headache?”

Arthur frowned. He knew it wasn’t appropriate to compare werewolves to regular canines, but Alfred’s emploring expression resembled a puppy so very much that Arthur couldn’t help connecting the two in his head. He did feel for Alfred, but unfortunately his hands were tied.

“I’m afraid none of our medicines will fix it. You just have to wait for the concussion to pass.”

“Kiss it better?”

That sympathy very quickly drained.

Alfred’s grin was undisturbed by Arthur’s sour glare, for which he simply turned his back and headed out of the room.

“Goodnight, Mr Jones.”

* * *

Alfred’s condition being neither life threatening nor unstable, Arthur felt only a little guilt in avoiding going to his room. He needed to be cleared by his doctor before he was permitted to leave, but after the night before Arthur couldn’t help postponing what he was certain would be an awkward encounter.

Either Alfred’s bold mannerisms whilst confused and concussed into mood swings was an indication of his usual nature, thus leaving Arthur to endure a self-assured, cocky alpha. Or, he may turn out to be a kind man ashamed of his behaviour and his subsequent embarrassment would leave the room tense and uncomfortable. At least, those were the only two possible options to Arthur’s mind, and in either case the situation would be awkward.

But he could only put it off so long, and running out of other patients he had no choice but to confront the concussed werewolf.

“Good morning Mr Jones.”

Alfred was sat up in bed, blankets over his legs and a terribly unattractive hospital gown now covering his torso. Again, Alfred perked up when Arthur entered the room; though this time his wide-eyed expression was one of startled surprise, and had Arthur been closer he may have been eagle-eyed enough to notice a flush of pink upon the alpha’s cheeks.

Alfred fidgeted with his blanket as Arthur approached, looking for all the world more like a child nervous of getting his first injection than the werewolf who had so boldly flirted with him the night before. If his woosy suggestions could even be considered as such.

“Hey doc’.” He flashed a smile, though it was shaky enough to match the weakness of his voice. Perhaps if they really had been in a bar Arthur could’ve found the nervousness sweet.

“How’s your head?” Arthur picked up the chart, reading through the notes nurses had made.

“Better. Still kinda hurts but it’s not bad.”

“On a scale of one to ten?”

Alfred hesitated, warranting a glance from Arthur.

“Like a three? I dunno, it feels just kinda like a stress headache now.”

“Well that’s a good sign. It should be gone tomorrow.” Arthur put the chart down, vaguely aware of Alfred’s eyes following his every move, but he chose not to question it. “I’ll just take a look at your wrist, and if that’s all fine you can be on your way shortly.”

He approached the head of the bed, and though he could ignore the way Alfred’s Adam’s apple bobbed in a nervous swallow, he couldn’t quite ignore the spike of nervousness in Alfred’s scent when he reached for his hand. Werewolves were known for strong emotions, but Alfred’s scent had been so subdued before he hadn’t thought he’d react so strongly. Still, he did his best to reassure.

“There’s nothing to worry about. Does it hurt?”

“No!” Alfred spoke too quickly, stumbling over the word as embarrassment took over his scent and his face flushed pinker.

Arthur had to bite the inside of his lip to keep from smiling. It was such a stark contrast from the alpha who had very nearly accosted him that he couldn’t help finding it endearingly sweet. He gently lifted Alfred’s wrist, slowly removing the brace and turning Alfred’s hand.

“Can you form a fist for me?”

Alfred did as asked, his hand shaking lightly with nerves that Arthur kindly ignored.

“Doctor Kirkland-”

“Release.”

“Right, uh, Doctor Kirkland I just,” Arthur kept his focus on Alfred’s wrist. He was used to patients rambling, whatever Alfred wanted to ask would be no surprise. He was actually finding himself rather glad to have had no mention of the embarrassment of the night before. “I just wanted to…apologise. For what I did yesterday. It- It wasn’t appropriate, and I swear I never would’ve done it if I wasn’t out of it-”

Oh.

Arthur spared him a glance, trying his best not to let heat rise to his cheeks.

“It’s quite alright Mr Jones, I’ve had worse. Just as long as you’re not going to nuzzle me again when I let your wrist go.”

Had Arthur not thought the alpha too old for such an action he may dare have said he’d squirmed after his words, scent spiking again for a moment of flustered embarrassment. It was sweet. Quite a reassurance to know that it had only been the injury that made Alfred behave so; one less pig-headed alpha in the world. Though the quiet pessimist at the back of his mind had to unkindly mention that of course, an alpha who looked like this Alfred Jones wouldn’t have any interest in an overworked omega unless he was delusional.

“You did smell good.”

Arthur’s head snapped up, cut off from his thoughts to stare at Alfred who very rapidly turned red.

“Crap, sorry, I, I shouldn’t have said that, that’s still not appropriate, I’m sorry,”

“It’s quite alright.”

Arthur cut him off, blushing just as brightly and turning his head back to Alfred’s wrist to hide it. He was sure he smelled of chemicals and cleaning fluid and that weird hospital scent most of the time, not to mention weariness and stress. The last time an alpha had genuinely complimented his scent…well, he couldn’t remember. And that quiet voice at the back of his mind too kindly then remembered that werewolves were known for their strong noses, which only heightened his fluster.

“…Thank you.” He mumbled, quick after to clear his throat. “Though you’re right; you can’t just go around commenting on an omega’s scent in a professional environment.”

“What about a casual one?” Again Arthur’s attention turned sharply to the alpha, shocked and startled to find that red face trying to keep his cool. “I mean, uh,  _wow_.” Alfred lifted his uninjured hand, slapping it across his eyes in embarrassment. “ _God_ , I must’ve hit my head real hard huh? I can’t believe I’m trying to, to…This is probably the least romantic way you’ve been asked out, right? Probably used to alphas trying to hit on you and you’re just trying to do your job. I’m such a  _dick_ , I’m sorry.”

The alpha’s rambling had Arthur frozen on the spot, staring at Alfred in surprise and somewhat confusion as he tried to keep up with the rapid pace of his words.

He was… _asking him out?_

This tall, broad, oddly sweet and irritating alpha who had woosily nuzzled him and hadn’t yet been cleared to leave was  _asking him out?_

Truly, Arthur only ever got the weird ones.

Yes, Alfred was right of course. Too often an alpha thought they could get away with inappropriate comments just because they were sick or injured, or tried to hit on him purely for his human status. Some of the supernatural creatures liked that for whatever reason. Arthur hadn’t ever wanted to question it too terribly.

But Alfred…

“It’s just you do smell nice and you have this cute smile and you were really nice to me even though I was being an ass and, shit, that was probably just you being professional too huh? I should shut up, my brother always says I talk too much, sometime that big mouth’ll get me in trouble and look. Embarrassed myself in front of a cute doctor who still has to take care of me. I should’ve hit my head harder so I never said anything.”

Alfred was injured and confused, and frankly decidedly silly. Regardless of how charming his rambling may have been at any other time, Arthur realised with some shame that he had a job to do, and getting caught up in a compliment from some injured alpha was no reason to embarrass himself so.

Arthur cleared his throat, effectively silencing Alfred, who had at some point given up covering his eyes and moved on to nervously tugging at his hair, and now peered bashfully at Arthur. Arthur looked away, trying to will away the pinkness of his own cheeks as he gently released Alfred’s wrist.

“For a start, yes, my politeness was policy, I won’t pretend to keep my temper in check since you’re no longer injured. Secondly, I’m not your doctor.”

“You’re asking to switch me aren’t you,”

“No, Mr Jones, I mean you’re fine. I’ll have a nurse bring you your discharge papers.” He looked up again, clasping his hands in front of him. Alfred was staring, though his expression, far from happy, seemed a mix of mortification and sadness. Arthur did his best to ignore it. “…Don’t get yourself so badly injured again. Have a good day, Mr Jones.”

He turned on his heel, leaving the room quickly and decisively before Alfred could say yet another stupid word or his dejected scent had him running back.

He headed straight to the nurses station, picking up a discharge form to fill in the details for Alfred then to sign. Technically that wasn’t his job, there were plenty of nurses about to do it, but he rather wanted an immediate distraction from having to reject such a sweet alpha on the simple matter of his injury. Part of him rather wished they had indeed encountered one another in a bar. Would Alfred have been the nervous, endearing man he had been just then? Would he have shyly wandered over to tell Arthur he smelled good and asked to buy him a drink? Or would he have been more straightforward; simply walked up with that lazy grin and introduced himself?

Arthur found himself blushing at either thought, shaking his head sharply to clear the ideas from his head. He was a doctor, with a long day ahead of him, he could not be caught up in daydreaming of what ifs just because some werewolf had a cute smile and an active scent gland.

And yet…

He groaned at himself, cursing and ripping a sticky note off of a pad to scribble down his name and number, which he slapped onto the discharge form before stomping his way back into Alfred’s room.

Alfred visibly jumped before he’d even looked up to see Arthur; undoubtedly for his sense of smell and Arthur did his best not to blush again at remembering how Alfred had commented on his scent.

“Doctor,”

“It’s Arthur. Don’t call me until you know exactly what you want to say.”

He handed Alfred the papers, turned quickly, and headed out of the room to determinedly find his next patient before he could change his mind yet again.

Only not halfway there he felt his phone buzzing in his pocket.

“Hello?”

“Hey.”

Arthur blinked, recognising the voice with some confusion.

“Alfred? I thought I told you-”

“You smell good.”

The speed with which both a smile and a pinkness leapt onto Arthur’s features should’ve been cause for some embarrassment. But Alfred was nowhere to be seen. So instead he only softly chided him and hung up to go about his day with an unusual spring in his step.


End file.
